The Riddle of His Being
by Alisn Gimerveille
Summary: "Zeus split the man and woman apart, fearing it's power, but obligating the man and woman on an everlasting quest to find their counterpart." This is the story of Peter Pan, Malcolm, King of Neverland and his other half. (Why was Wendy kept in Neverland for over a century?)
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I do not own any OUAT or Barrie character.**

**A/N: I'm sure I'm not the only one heavily disappointed with the most recent episode, however I have had enough time to rant and this is no place for that (But seriously writers? Rumple's father?! There were so many other and better alternatives.) I've never been good at making totally AU fics so this one will be based from 3x08 but progress as an AU from then on. This idea took root in my head and could not leave until I put it into paper (or online). The writers always leave gaping plot holes so I really hope they won't tackle Rumple's mother so that I can keep my headcanon. I'm aware I sound delusional, but isn't that what fanfiction is for? This work is dedicated to all the surviving Darling Pan shippers out there and devastated Neverlanders. **

* * *

**Prologue**

The two women watched in awe, as the boy expertly spun the wheel. For one so young, he was imbued with so much talent.

When Malcolm appeared at their doorstep, they had half a mind to slam the door in his face. If not for the boy with him, they would have showed no compassion. Although they knew that he was gambling rather than looking for a job as he had promised, they had no desire to break the boy's heart further. Perhaps it was better this way. The less time Malcolm spent with the boy, the less chance he would corrupt him as he had with his mother.

_His mother_…The same thought entered two minds. Given who his mother was, it was no surprise to them that young Rumple turned out to be a prodigy at spinning.

The one nearest to Rumple shook her head sadly. She had been so _full of life_ and had such a bright future. But there was nothing to be done about the cards that were dealt; even if you were the one dealing them. Already the two could see the boy's rumpled fate. He had such potential for greatness, but like his mother before him, would descend into darkness.

All because of one man.


	2. Always To Be A Boy

**Disclaimer: I do not own any OUAT or Barrie character.**

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**Always To Be a Boy**

_Wendy: Peter, how old are you?_

_Peter Pan: I don't know. I ran away from home the day I was born._

_Wendy: Ran away? Why?_

_Peter Pan: Because I heard father and mother discussing what I was to be when I became a man. I want to always be a little boy and have fun! So I ran away, and I've lived a long time among the fairies._

_(Peter Pan, 1960)_

* * *

Malcolm vowed never to grow up. This vow did not come suddenly as if one suddenly deciding to go to the market. Oh no, the vow had been festering at the back of his mind, just never articulated. Why would he want to? Grown-ups were liars, thieves, and cheats. Much like a child, he believed that whatever he believed in was the absolute truth and everything he observed about grown-ups did not dissuade his notion.

He once had parents. They made him work day in and day out, but he never got to play at all. He loved to play and have adventures, so one night he decided to run away so that he would never have to work again.

It was only when he was deep into the forest that he realized his foolishness (not that he would admit it out loud) and turned to find his way back home. Except…except he couldn't. Panic-stricken, he looked left and right as if a trail would suddenly appear. He walked in the dark blindly until he could no longer tell how many hours he had walked, when finally his legs collapsed and he fell asleep on the forest floor.

The next day, he tried to find his way home again. All day long he climbed up trees to pick fruits to eat and pretended he was the king of the forest. He was good at make-believe, and all that climbing was great practice (this would serve him well in the future). Night fell quickly and still he couldn't find his way. Though he had a great adventure, he had begun to feel lonely (another thing he would never admit. As you might have noticed, Malcolm was a prideful boy). In the emptiness of the forest, the stars became his friends. He pretended he could hear them and he asked for their help.

All of a sudden, he heard something that sounded like the laughter of the stars. Up ahead! "What is that light?" He asks nobody in particular. It glowed a soft green and moved, so he had no choice but to follow.

There were times when he thought he had lost the light. But always, he would find it again. It stayed, hovering, and Malcolm felt comforted much like how he felt when the fireplace was lit (_To keep nightmares away_, said his mother).

Imagine his surprise when he found out that the light had led him back home. "Thank you." He said gratefully, but the light had already gone.

'How surprised mother and father would feel once they see me! I'll tell them all about my adventure." thought Malcolm excitedly. He ran all the way to the door, but something stopped him in his tracks. There at the window! He could see Mother and Father with…another boy? They looked so gay, untroubled by a forgotten son. Malcolm felt tears prickling and anger course through his heart. Gone for one day, and already they had replaced him? Mother told him she'd love him forever. Hah! Liars! All grown-ups were liars. He ran back to the forest, to his friends, the stars.

* * *

"Thank you for letting me hold him dearie." said Malcolm's mother

"He looks quite like Malcolm did when he was but an infant." said Malcolm's father sadly.

"It's no problem at all! It is quite chilly tonight. Wouldn't you like to close the windows?" Their guest rubbed her arms. Her husband draped an arm around her shoulders to keep her warm. To keep from the cold, they had moved nearer to the fireplace and so Malcolm had not seen them

"Oh no!" Mother said hotly, and then her face flushed. "I'm sorry, but we have to keep the window open so that we can see Malcolm when he comes home."

Father nodded his head in agreement, "The window must always stay open for him."

If they had but looked up a moment earlier, they would have seen the shadow of a boy and heard the tinkling of bells.

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**A/N: I'm largely influenced by the Peter Pan movies and books. In most versions Peter runs away and comes back to find out that he has been replaced by a younger brother (Making Rumple his younger brother would've made more sense tbh). I wanted to at least incorporate Barrie's work. Next chapter Malcolm will meet Rumple's mom! I do hope you like how the story plays out.**


	3. Thimble and Acorn

**Disclaimer: I do not own any OUAT or Barrie character.**

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**Thimble and Acorn**

_"She also said she would give him a kiss if he liked, but Peter did not know what she meant, and he held out his hand expectantly."_  
_(J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan)_

* * *

The boy grew. Not up, no not enough to be a _grown-up_. He was somewhere between a boy and a man, his rounded face having given way to sharp angles. His arms having grown long and wiry after having spent long hours in the smithy pounding long and hard on metal. He had a lean look about him, quite tall for his age. His expressive eyebrows, dangerous smirk, and roguish voice drew a many admiring gaze. But he hardly noticed, for despite being in-between, he was more boy than man.

He was on the streets performing tricks for passerbys, when the person to be his master approached him.

"You seem to be good with your hands young 'un. What say you be my apprentice at the smithy and get lodgings in return?" said he in a deep voice.

Peering up at him from where he sat, he nodded. He was no fool. In the long time that he was on the streets, he had made friends with many, who like him, were abandoned. Their stories further reinforced his unfavorable opinion of grown-ups. Although he could get food with his meager earnings, he would still need a roof to sleep below.

He came with the man, never for one moment trusting the grown-up with him (And he was right, for the blacksmith had pocketed his gold).

* * *

The blacksmith had given him food and lodgings; you would think that Malcolm would have been grateful. He wasn't. It was of his opinion that the blacksmith was a thief and a cheat.

One day, a woman had entered the smithy. _Quite an ugly one too, _thought Malcolm. Her hair was a dirty yellow like straw, and her thick lips painted red. Her…front was so large that Malcom was surprised her dress had yet to rip.

It was there that the blacksmith stared while he was speaking to the customer. While he handed over the commission, the woman had seen him and approached him.

"Ooohh" cooed the strange woman "What a handsome boy! Wherever did you find him?" She turned back to the blacksmith.

He puffed his chest importantly and said, "Homeless. I found him on the streets and took him in."

The woman clasped her hands together and looked adoringly at him, "How noble of you!" _Ah,_ thought Malcolm logically, _this was why he was taken in. _On the whole he much preferred the woman to look at the blacksmith, for when she was looking at him he had seen something _hungry _in her eyes.

"It is indeed fine work, but my gold is not enough." She pouted her lip at him and batted her lashes "However can I repay you?"

The blacksmith licked his lips and replied, "For you fair lady, a kiss is but the price."

Malcolm had experienced kisses from her mother before, but this kiss was different. Lips to lips full of smacking sounds; it was quite vulgar and he turned away.

"Good bye, boy." The woman kissed his cheek before she left, while the blacksmith glared at him.

He scrubbed and washed at his cheek to remove the mark that was like a festering wound.

* * *

It was an average day when it happened. Malcolm was playing with the boys (they were attracted to him like moths to a flame. He was the best tree-climber and the fastest runner and they had great respect for him) when he noticed a dirty boy sitting and looking at them. He left their rowdy play and approached the boy. He was gaunt and it was obvious that he hadn't eaten for days. His hair was so matted with dirt that it was impossible to tell its original color.

"Would you like something to eat?" He asked the boy who nodded vigorously.

He stole some gold from the blacksmiths earnings and gave it to the boy. Surely he wouldn't miss it (he overcharged other customers to compensate for the kiss).

But noticed it he did and a beating was what Malcolm received for his heroism.

The beatings happened far between that it hurt every time it happened, but often enough that he knew that the next would just be around the corner.

He prayed for sleep to overcome him, for in sleep he travelled to paradise. He ignored the pain, until he could feel it no longer. He was finally asleep.

* * *

It was the same every time he came back to it. Forest sprawling with life, the bright sun shining. Even the wind seemed to welcome him, and he inhaled it deeply. _Neverland_.

The first time he came here was when he ran away from home for good. He slept with his light glowing beside him and travelled to the magical place in his dreams. In Neverland, he was anything he wanted to be. He ate anything. He did anything.

He wondered if there was only one Neverland, and if so why hadn't he seen anyone else? Or perhaps this was his own personal Neverland and other children had their own. No matter. Whatever troubles a grown-up does not trouble a child.

Malcolm knew the first thing he wanted to do, and that was to fly. When he flew, his troubles left him. Looking at Neverland from up above, it seemed as if the island was his to own and pocket. But over there! At the Mermaid's Lagoon, splashes disturbed the usual stillness of the water. He flew nearer and saw…a mermaid with a child!

The child struggled and fought, gasping for breath, while the mermaid repeatedly tried to dunk his head. From his position, Malcolm could see that it would only be a matter of seconds before the fight went out of him. He flew to the water and grasped the arm the child waved wildly, and pulled. It was a tug-of-war between the mermaid but he believed, _he believed_, he had the strength to pull him from her treacherous claws.

It was only when they were both on the shore that he became calm again, and noticed it was not a boy he held in his arms. For one, the body he held was softer. And the voice whispering "Thank you. Thank you." in his ear was higher in pitch.

He stepped back to look at the girl he had saved. She was his size and age (he didn't know how he knew, he just did) with beautiful riotous curls, the color of which was like straw spun into gold. Her eyes were an enchanting blue. Malcolm's eyes were also blue, but they were tinged with green and like the color of the sea. Her eyes were like the color of the sky he loved so much when he flew. For a moment he said nothing and stood entranced by her, staring at her heart-shaped face.

Then, he caught himself and said, almost accusingly, "What were you doing swimming with the mermaids? They're not as you read in stories; they'd sooner drown you than play." He shrugged indifferently. "It's all the same to them."

She laughed. _Strange girl_, Malcolm thought, _to laugh in the face of death_. But he quite liked her laugh (Although he would never admit it.) for it sounded like the tinkling of bells. "Yes, I'm now aware of that. I was just napping on the shore, the temperature is just lovely today, when I felt something dragging me into the water. It was a mermaid! Pity that she tried to kill me, since she was quite beautiful, you see I've never seen a mermaid before…"

He interrupted her since she had started to ramble, "Wait, and answer this first. How did you come to be in Neverland?" He asked for this was the first time this had happened.

"Oh, Neverland! What a nice name. I came here through my dreams of course." She said matter-of-factly as if it should have been obvious to him. It was but he did not like to be made feel as if he knew less than others. She shivered and tried to squeeze the water out of her simple white dress.

"You just have to believe you know. Believe that you're dry with all your heart." He crossed his arms in front of him and raised his eyebrow sardonically.

She followed his advice and closed her eyes shut, believing with all her heart. With her eyes closed, Malcolm could stare at her openly. He noticed the freckles dotting her face and her pink lips. Suddenly she opened her eyes, and Malcolm turned, ashamed to be caught looking. She was as dry as a leaf.

She grasped both ends of her dress and twirled, laughing all the while, "Thank you. Between this and saving my life, however may I repay you?"

"For you fair lady, a kiss is but the price." He said without thinking.

She stopped twirling and stared at him. He felt like an animal caught in a trap, and an urge to flee overtook him.

She smiled at him nicely and took something from her finger. She gave the small silver object to him. A thimble.

"What is this?" Malcolm asked though he knew perfectly what it was.

"It is a kiss of course." said she, with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes.

He smirked in turn. "I supposed it is my turn to give you a kiss then?"

She blushed prettily, and closed her eyes. "If you'd like."

Laughing silently he picked up something from the ground and held it up to her eyes. Slowly, she opened them and saw an acorn. She smiled a beautiful smile and took it without complaint. "Thank you…Oh! I forgot to ask. Where are my manners?" She shook her head lightly. "What is your name?"

"What is _your _name?"

"I'm…," Here she hesitated, "Moira. My name is Moira."

Malcolm knew she was lying, for he tried to be as honest as possible, to differentiate himself from the grown-ups. But Moira wasn't a grown-up and he didn't mind so much when she lied. He wouldn't give his real name though. Fair was only fair. He said the name that first popped into his head, the name of the blacksmith.

"I'm Peter." And then he bowed much like how he thought a gentleman would bow.

Moira covered her mouth and chuckled as if the name "Peter" was amusing to her. He didn't ask why.

She then curtsied much like how a lady would curtsy. "Nice to meet you, Peter."

They both laughed, the careless laughter of children.

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**A/N: If Peter being Malcolm was the writer's tribute to the movie "Hook", then this is mine. I do so hope you like it. Peter (Ruby's first love) was the son of a blacksmith. I imagine Malcolm being apprenticed to his father who was also named Peter. The meaning of the name Moira is quite interesting. Read and Review please! **


	4. Interlude

**Disclaimer: I do not own any OUAT or Barrie character**

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**Interlude**

_"What's your name?' he asked._

_'Wendy Moira Angela Darling,' she replied with some satisfaction. 'What is your name?'_

_'Peter Pan.'_

_She was already sure that he must be Peter, but it did seem a comparatively short name._

_'Is that all?'_

_'Yes,' he said rather sharply. He felt for the first time that it was a shortish name._

_'I'm so sorry,' said Wendy Moira Angela._

_'It doesn't matter,' Peter gulped._

_(J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan and Wendy)_

* * *

The boy called Peter Pan sat brooding on his perch up on a high tree. From here, he had the best vantage point through her window. He could see that she was already in her bed and reading her book, the title of which she never told him. Peter Pan rarely thought deeply. He preferred to play games, and the exhilarating thrill it brought him banished restless thoughts from his mind. But alone, without the company of his lost boys, he thought about things he hadn't thought of in years.

The cheers and noise of the lost boys could be heard from where smoke from the bonfire could be seen. He had Felix stand guard while he went off alone. This was not something new and the lost boys had always assumed that he went off having solitary adventures alone. He would just have to turn back from her window and fly to where his lost boys were. Amidst the merry-making, he could forget the heavy thoughts weighing him down. Instead he did the stupid thing, the _impulsive _thing. He flew to where the window was open. He flew towards her.

Landing gracefully beneath the ladder towards her house, he wondered if it was a good idea that he was visiting her, but pushed onward anyway, because Peter Pan was _not _scared of anything. The house itself was real _(but what was the difference of real and make-believe on this island?)_. He had the lost boys construct it from the multitude of tress surrounding them. But the beds, the chairs, all the furniture were something he believed in to existence. There was no way he could have procured the comfy bed otherwise, and there was no way she would be sleeping in a cot like all the others _(himself excluded, because Peter Pan was not like the others and he rarely slept anymore)_. Still, he worried about the design. It was too much like her London nursery, and it was in his best interest to make her forget about anything and everything about _that_ place. But the first time he had showed it to her, she had been crying endlessly and begging to be set free, she had quieted. She never smiled, but inside her treehouse she never cried either, so Pan kept it.

It had been a few weeks he guessed, that she had been separated from her brothers. He knew she kept tally, much like Baelfire did when he was in Neverland. But just like Baelfire, he knew that one day she'd just stop. He wouldn't have bothered. What was the point of keeping track of your stay here in Neverland if you were going to stay forever?

He had made a promise to her brothers.

"Follow my orders. Do as I say, and I promise you I won't hurt your sister. Once you've accomplished the tasks I've set, you'll be free to go."

Knives at their throats, tears in their eyes, John and Michael could do nothing but nod.

He may have not been the most well-behaved boy on the island, but he always kept his promises. Once they had done all he had asked they, John and Michael, would be free (What other use would he have for them?). She was not included in the _you_ he referred to in his deal. Technicalities, technicalities. They should have asked.

Once he had reached the top of the ladder, he could finally see her. Numerous pillows cushioned her back and she had yet to notice his arrival. Engrossed as she was in her book, upon hearing footsteps, she looked up and met his eyes. Sky to sea.

"Moira." Pan greeted her.

"I prefer to be called Wendy if you please." Wendy Darling replied coldly.

"Wendy then," He amended with a slight smirk. "How are you?"

She turned his head to avoid looking at him. Pan noticed she looked gaunt and resolved to do something about it. Wendy would refuse any food conjured by Pan, and had to be force-fed lest she starved. Her honey-rich hair still shined golden, but her dress was ruined by dirt.

He moved towards her to tuck her in and Wendy became still. When before she would throw things at him or try to scratch his face, he would only laugh at her attempts. She learned her lesson and decided the best possible course of action was to remain docile until Pan finished her task and would finally leave her alone.

He rearranged her pillows and blankets and made sure she was comfortable and secure. Despite the silence, the soft sheets and her soft breathing somewhat calmed him, daresay, even comforted him.

She decided to break the silence, "Who is Moira?"

Peter quirked an eyebrow at her, a bit surprised because she usually stayed silent during the whole ordeal. "I thought Moira was one of your names."

"Yes, but why do you call me Moira? I tell you all the time to call me Wendy, but you often slip. I feel as if she is a real person."

"It's just your imagination."

This time it was Wendy's turn to quirk an eyebrow at him. "I thought Neverland was the land of imagination. In this place, fake and real cannot be distinguished from the other."

She thought he would answer her. He was almost honest with her sometimes. Instead he, finished with his task, blew out the candle and moved toward the ladder.

But Wendy couldn't let him go without one last question, "How do you do it? How do you fly?"

His back was still facing her, but she could almost see his smug grin from his voice alone as he answered, "Why Wendy, forgot already? You just need a bit of pixie dust."

"And to think lovely thoughts." She said quietly, but loud enough that Pan heard her and this made him turn. "That is what you told me before. That is what I want to ask. How could you, with all the things that you've done, all the lies you've told and lives you've ruined, even muster a single happy thought?"

With the sole light at the treehouse gone, Wendy had a hard time making out Pan's face. Shadows danced along the planes making it hard to see his expression. His voice sounded sad (and this Wendy knew was just her imagination for how could a heartless monster like Pan feel any emotion), as he answered, "I think back to happier times past. My memories are my lovely thoughts."

A heartbeat passed, and he jumped down the ladder, leaving Wendy alone with her thoughts.


End file.
